Tennis.

Now that the Williams sisters have pissed all over the rather beautiful Eastern Bloc women that are the new stars of tennis, its the turn of the nth Nadal/Federer major final.

I live approx. 5 minutes drive from the tennis courts, and frankly, the hub-bub is an enourmous pain in my arse.

We've all seen Rafael Nadal floating around in Tesco's buying bananas and bread, and we've all seen Andy Murray moaning about some such nonsense(he's Scottish, its what we do) before flouncing out of the competition with a whimper.

Federer, though, is a different beast all together. In all the time I've lived around here, I've never seen him off a tennis court. Admittedly, I havnt exactly been hunting him down, but still, it'd be nice to see someone of his status out and about in the local community.

For two weeks in summer, we get an influx of posh people drinking Pimm's Number 1 and eating strawberries and cream. Then it rains and all the Tarquins and Cressendas all go home in their massive Range Rovers to complain that the box seats they had were ruined because (UK former King Of Chat) Micheal Parkinson was in the next box, and he is of a lower social standing. WHAT AN AFFRONT!

Doubtless, when Tarquin and Cressenda get home, young Fairthorne is already prancing around in his tennis whites having an all weather court built in that little dis-used patch of the grounds where the servants quarters were.

And then there is the weather. Why would anyone choose to have a major international tournament, which can only be played in dry conditions, in a country with roughly 99.99% chance of rain on an given day? All that means is the players get warmed up, a drop of rain goes past the umpire, the tarpaulin comes out and the players go away again. And then we are subjected to the horror that is Cliff Richard. I'll say again. Cliff. Richard.

For those of you not in the know, Cliff Richard is a stalwart of both the UK music charts(as a solo artist, teddy boy, Christian and a member of The Shadows), and for the last 6 decades he has had a "hit" of some sort. I think thats a record of some description. He is also an avid tennis fan. As soon as the rain comes out, he whips out his microphone and pipes up with Celebrations, or Millenium Prayer, or something equally schmoozy to appease the true tennis fans who for out £84 (roughly $8000 US at last count) for a day. A DAY. To see the tennis get called off and press-ganged into Cliff Richard. Again, CLIFF RICHARD.

How do the All England Lawn Tennis Association get away with it, year after year? Do they think that no-one who goes there likes tennis? That they actually come in the hope of a Cliff concert? Is there some unfortunate employee of the purple and green club who has to stand on top of the roof with a hose and call it off so that Cliff can play, otherwise the world will end? As a Christian, I imagine that Cliff Richard is at one with God, and will strike down with a great fury upon thee, and they will know that his name is CLIFF RICHARD if he doesnt sing.

In case you hadnt guessed, I hate Cliff Richard. And tennis.

Actually, thats not strictly true. I like womens tennis. Rather attractive young women grunting and wearing short dresses? Have them washed and sent to my room, please, bellhop. But thats ruined now. Because it was the Williams sisters who were in the final.

Fucking tennis. Fucking Cliff Richard. Fucking shit.